


Hard Goodbyes

by CaptainDeryn



Series: Deryn's Fictober 2020--Through the Pages [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings Online
Genre: F/M, Fictober2020, Post-War of the Ring, Prompt Fic, chapter warnings vary from chapter to chapter, fictober20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26751949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainDeryn/pseuds/CaptainDeryn
Summary: Day 1 of 2020 Fictober. Faewryn has to say goodbye to her father, Raenor, but if left with a unexpected gift.
Relationships: Eldarion (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Deryn's Fictober 2020--Through the Pages [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952452
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Hard Goodbyes

**Author's Note:**

> TW:mentions loss of a parent

Day 1: "No come back"

Daybreak peaked strong over the mountaintops, washing gold and bright hues of pink and blue across the sky like spilled watercolor across paper. Still, it took another hour or two until the sun had awoken her rays enough to warm the chill out of the air and dissipate the last of dawn’s sleepy fog. 

Activity down at the docks had been hustling since before dawn’s first light. Bright lanterns with a friendly, ethereal white glow had been light enough to begin checking the few ships set to sail today. 

Faewryn was little help to the shipmasters of Ithilien and only seemed to hinder the plans of passengers checking their meager supplies and storing them within their temporary wooden homes. Watching from a small distance, perched upon a cold stone bench overlooking the share, was the best place for her. 

“ _Atar_ ,” The single word quivered, her composure breaking further just by looking over at her father. Raenor sat quietly beside her, as he had since he’d put his own things on the ship. All he kept on her person was his lute, carved with intricate words to a love song he had written long ago for a woman since passed. Though he had run his fingers over the strings from time to time, the moments where he truly played a few sparse chords were far and few today. 

“Yes, _harmahin_?” he asked. 

Her heart ached at the weariness in his voice. Everything about her father in the last year had slowly broken down into weariness, leaving the tired elven man in front of her. All because the one love he’d fallen into was a mortal woman. A warrior, who even after surviving mighty battles and an unimaginable war to become a hero, was still able to fall. 

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Faewryn tried to keep her voice steady and her eyes dry. 

Sighing, Raenor stroked his hand over Faewryn’s head. “The passage will be safe and the boats are well built.” 

He looked towards the water, pursing his lips at whatever he saw, “It will all be okay.” he reassured once more, brushing away the stray tears leaking from his daughter’s eyes when he looked back at her, “This is not goodbye, only a see you later my _harmahin.”_

A bell’s sharp chime struck across the air and something in Raenor’s shoulders slumped, “That is our call to depart.”

Faewryn choked down the emotion building in her throat, brushing tears off of her cheeks as she stood up. It was all she could to contain them as she threw her arms around her father. His arms tightened around her, soothing and comforting just as they had been every time she’d bumped herself in a fall or wandered into some childhood heartbreak. 

“I’m going to miss you.” she sniffled. 

Raenor rubbed a gentle circle on her back before stepping back, “I know, and I am going to miss you more than anything.” 

“But not more than _ammë_ ,” escaped Faewryn before she’d really thought it through, “I don’t want you to miss me more than _ammë_ , that’s destroyed you.” 

He shuddered, drawing in a ragged breath. “Then not more than your _ammë_.” 

Another bell chimed, joined by a call for any stragglers to come down to the ships. 

Faewryn gestured towards the water, “You should go. _Melinyel atar_.” 

“ _Melinyel yando_.” Raenor murmured in return, tears of his own gathering in his eyes. “I shall see you again my daughter.” 

If she tried to speak again, she was certain her voice would shatter like glass. She gestured him away with what she hoped was a reassuring nod. Only when he was walking down to the water did she let the tears on her cheeks stream unchecked. 

The boats were sailing away when she looked back to the bench. Raenor’s lute was sitting on the granite. 

“No.” Faewryn gasped, looking between the lute and the receding ships. She couldn’t remember a time when her father had been without his lute, without his music. 

She snatched it up, sprinting towards the docks, “Wait!” 

The wood groaned beneath her boots, her footsteps hammering. It was colder down by the water, a breeze whipping her hair around her face.

“ _Atar_ come back!” she screamed. The boats did not pause in their slow sailing and she waved her arm up and down, trying to flag them back. Raenor couldn’t leave without his lute! 

Her voice cracked as she screamed again, “No, come back!” 

The boats did not turn, her voice ripped away in the breeze only to tangle mute in their sails. Faewryn sat down hard on the docks, pillowing the lute in her lap. The water sloshed hollowly beneath her. 

She brought a hand to her face, the tears swelling and streaming faster than she could stem them. 

“Come back.” she sobbed. “You forgot this. You’ll need this.” 

A rustling caught her attention and she looked down, blinking to clear her vision. The breeze had picked up a scrap of paper within the lute, tangling it in the strings. Each rush of the breeze tugged the note, threatening to pull it away until she picked it up and secured it in her fingers. 

“Oh _atar_.” she murmured, cradling the lute closer to her and letting the note fall away. It landed in the water, the paper dampening and the ink bleeding across it. She trailed her fingers over the intricate carvings in the lute’s wood. It was hers now, to make her own story and her own music. A legacy of emotions and stories left to her.


End file.
